Never Good Enough
by crematosis
Summary: Steve has never liked Tony, never considered him a member of the team. It's up to the rest of the Avengers to make Tony feel wanted.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: If any of you read my other stories, you'll know that I'm pretty heavily into Stony and this is pretty much...anti-Stony. So, a little difficult to write. But it was an Avengerkink prompt and I took it to challenge myself. Let me know how it turned out.

Disclaimer: I'd like to own Tony and Steve...Tony especially. But, hey, arc reactor shirt. Close enough.

By most standards, the mission had been successful. The Avengers had managed to capture the villain of the week fairly quickly in a coordinated attack by Clint and Natasha. Tony had claimed his comm had been acting up and he couldn't hear Steve's orders. Which was probably his excuse for charging in instead of staying back to block the villain's escape route.

And Steve might have been willing to overlook the fact that Tony had disobeyed orders because the mission had been successful without his input. But along the way, Tony had narrowly avoided crushing an elderly couple with a light pole he knocked over. And Steve couldn't stand for his team endangering civilians.

Steve cornered him in the kitchen afterward. "What the hell was that out there?" he demanded.

"I don't think I did anything wrong this-"

"You knocked over a light pole, Stark. That was the only collateral damage of the entire fight. So, you officially caused more damage than the villain."

Tony sighed. "I didn't do it on purpose. I just lost control for a moment. I upgraded the repulsors last night and they're a little stronger than what I'm used to. It won't happen again."

"Jesus Christ, Stark. Are you telling me you went out there today with untested equipment?"

"I didn't have time to test them. I was going to do it today, but we got-"

"Someone could have been killed because you were careless. This isn't a game, Stark. If you're not focused on the mission, you need to be grounded. Is that understood?"

Tony hunched his shoulders. "It won't happen again."

Right. That was what Tony always said. But every mission, Tony's promises went right out the window.

Clint padded into the kitchen holding up a Star Trek DVD. "Hey, Thor wants to know if you all are interested in having a movie night."

"I'll be there," Steve said. "It's probably about time Thor and I saw Star Trek. Bruce has been telling me all about the TV show back in the day."

Clint inclined his head in Tony's direction. "You coming, too?"

"No, I, uh, I gotta work on the repulsors some more," Tony said. He snatched a granola bar off the counter and disappeared down the elevator.

Clint frowned. "He spends an awful lot of time working in the lab."

"You know how he is," Steve said with a shrug. "He'd rather be with his machines than people."

"I'm sure he needs to take a break from his work every now and then. And I'm sure he likes sci-fi."

"I'm not going to order him to watch a movie with us," Steve said. "You know how well that'll go over."

"No, I suppose you're right." Clint shrugged. "It still would have been nice to have the whole team together."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the love, y'all. It's nice to do something different and have it work out so well. Trying new things is fun, even if my Tony-muse doesn't think so. I torture that poor boy too much.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody.

The next day, Tony still hadn't come up from the lab and by the end of lunch, Clint had had enough. "I'm going down to check on him," he announced.

"He's been down there for longer," Steve said.

"I know. And it's not good for him."

Natasha nodded into her cup of tea. "Take him a sandwich or something. I don't think he has anything down there besides the coffee maker."

Steve made a face. "He's a grown man. He shouldn't need us to babysit him."

"We all have our flaws," Natasha said serenely. "A grown man shouldn't need help with Youtube either. But it is what it is."

Clint grabbed a few slices of cheese and lunch meat out of the fridge. He wasn't sure what Tony liked on his sandwich. Tony wasn't in the kitchen often enough. So he just figured he'd grab a little bit of everything and Tony could eat whatever he wanted.

"Wish me luck," Clint said, as he piled all the sandwich fixings on a tray.

"Good luck," Steve said. "Knowing Stark, he'll probably refuse your help on principle. He's as stubborn as they come."

Clint grinned. "Good thing I can be just as stubborn."

He took the elevator down and Jarvis opened the doors to the lab before he even had time to type in his access code.

"Welcome, Agent Barton," Jarvis greeted him. "How considerate of you to bring sir some refreshments. But I'm afraid he is not in a state to entertain visitors at the moment."

Tony was asleep at one of the work tables, head down in a pile of metal pipes. It couldn't be a comfortable place to sleep, but Tony was probably too tired to care. So, maybe the sandwich could wait until after he hauled him up to his bedroom.

Clint nudged Tony's shoulder. "Come on, Tony. Time to get out of here."

Tony jerked upwards and began scrambling at the bits and pieces strewn over the table. "Almost done, almost done," he said.

Clint pressed his hands down flat against the table. "You need to take a break."

"Can't. Still working on your new bow."

"In that case, you can definitely take a break. I don't give a shit how long my bow takes."

"You'll care if we get called in," Tony said. "What'll you do if the it's not ready then?"

"Use the one I got now, obviously."

Tony looked at him skeptically.

"No offense to you, Stark, but I don't need your stuff. I've been sniping for years, making do with crappy-ass SHIELD-issue bows. So, don't get me wrong, I like your bow a lot better. But the last one you made was just fine. It doesn't need an upgrade."

"Huh," Tony said. "Never thought about it like that."

Clint elbowed him. "So give it a rest for the day and take a nap in a real bed. We don't want to risk damaging that trademarked face."

"Haha, very funny," Tony muttered. But he made no protests as Clint pushed him towards the elevator.

Once upstairs, Clint walked him back through the kitchen. Natasha looked up from her tea, a slight frown on her face. "Tony, are you getting sick?"

"Nah, he's just asleep on his feet," Clint said cheerfully. "He's been up for over twenty-four hours now."

"No need for concern," Tony mumbled. "I do this all the time."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And it's finally catching up to you. You look like shit."

"Thanks a lot. I didn't come up here to get bitched at-"

"Hey," Steve said sternly. "Don't talk to Natasha that way. Show her some respect."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Steve, please. I'm a grown woman. I can fight my own battles."

Steve huffed. "Just don't let it happen again."

Clint gave Natasha a quick salute and marched Tony off in the direction of his bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So, Natasha's kind of my favorite right now. Love her. And she's only going to keep getting more awesome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except germs of my own. Being sick makes me want to write other people sick. Just to make them suffer with me.

But over the next few days, it became clear to everybody. Well, just about everybody.

On the third day, Tony sat hunched over the kitchen counter, a box of Kleenex next to his tablet as he scrolled through his newsfeed. He sneezed thunderously and reached absently for his third tissue of the morning.

"I really think you should go back to bed," Bruce said, his voice taking on a long-suffering tone.

"I'm fine," Tony said. "Just a cold."

"It's going to get worse if you don't rest," Bruce said. "You could end up with pneumonia."

At that moment, Steve padded into the kitchen after his early morning run and Bruce looked imploringly at Steve. "Tell Tony he needs to take it easy for awhile."

"No, I don't," Tony said. "I'll be fine."

"If he says he's fine, he's fine," Steve said with a shrug.

Natasha sighed. There was a steadily growing pile of tissues in the trash can. Steve had to be deliberately obtuse.

Tony sneezed again and reached for another Kleenex.

"You're washing your hands, aren't you?" Steve said. "We don't want the whole team getting sick."

Tony gritted his teeth. "No problem," he said. "I'll be in the workshop, keeping my germs to myself." He snatched up the Kleenex box and retreated from the room.

"That certainly went well," Bruce said with a sigh.

"He's not that sick," Steve said. "No use keeping him bedridden. He'll go stir crazy. You know how much energy he has."

Natasha rolled her eyes. Somehow Steve had also overlooked the way Tony dragged himself out of bed and flopped down on the couch for several hours a day.

"I'll check up on him later," Bruce said. "He's just going to get worse."

And Bruce was right, of course. By the end of the day, Tony was feverish and almost delirious. Thor had to carry him up from the lab and put him to bed. And by then, Tony was too weak to protest.

They brought soup and cold medicine for Tony and Natasha stayed by his side to make sure he finished all of it.

"You don't have to do this," Tony muttered. "I can take care of myself."

"We're a team now," Natasha told him, placing a damp towel on Tony's forehead. "That means we look after each other, whether you like it or not."

Tony smiled faintly and his eyes fluttered shut.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So I might have forgotten about Thor until this chapter...oops.

Disclaimer: So, I don't own anything. I don't even own any soup recipes. Sad. So sad.

Within two days, Tony had gone from feverish and delirious to almost his old self.

Bruce sat at the kitchen counter, smiling into his cup of tea as Tony and Natasha bickered good-naturedly over lunch.

"Soup, soup, soup," Tony said. "What is it with you Russians and soup? Gruel for breakfast and borscht for lunch. Bleagh."

"I had oatmeal with dried cranberries," Natasha said mildly. "I wouldn't call that gruel."

"Fancy gruel, then."

"And still, not a soup. Come now, the only soup you can think of is borscht? We need to broaden your horizons. There's okroshka, botvinya-"

Tony made a strangled sound. "Do you hear that, Bruce? She's trying to kill me with some rotten fish soup."

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "I can arrange a fish soup, if you'd prefer. We Russians do like our fish. As rotten as possible, of course."

"See?" Tony said. "Definitely trying to kill me."

Bruce just chuckled. "If she wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already."

"Aye," said Thor. "And I would think she would dignify you with a more violent death than soup. But if you are really worried about your safety, I will gamely eat your share. It would be a shame to let such fine food go to waste." He reached for the soup pot.

Natasha swatted his hand away. "No more soup for you. You've already had six bowls."

"Your cooking is incomparable," Thor said. "I just can't get enough of it." He looked at her hopefully.

She pointed to the door with the soup ladle. "Out, Thor."

Thor went, his shoulders hunched dejectedly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You'd think that man never gets a decent meal around here. Now where were we? Ah, yes. In deference to your limited palate, I'll make beef stroganoff for dinner."

Tony grinned. "My favorite."

"I know. It's in your file."

"Of course it is. Oh, speaking of files, I've been meaning to fix up those nail file daggers of yours. I should really get on that." Tony's eyes were distant, probably already working on the upgrades in his mind. "I'll be down in the lab. Try not to miss me too much."

Natasha smiled. "Have fun. And don't forget about dinner."

"I won't," Tony said with a wave over his shoulder. He halted in the doorway. "Oh, uh, hi, Steve. I was just leaving."

Natasha stiffened, all traces of the smile gone from her face.

Steve took Tony's arm. "Stark, a word." He tugged Tony into the living room.

They were too far away for Bruce to make out the conversation, but from Steve's pointed finger and Tony's slumped shoulders, it didn't look like anything good. Especially since Tony left in the opposite direction of his lab.

"I can't believe him," Natasha said under her breath.

Steve padded into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket. "Hi, guys. It's a great day for-" He trailed off, his brow furrowed as he stared at Natasha. "What's that look for?"

"I think you're being too hard on him," she said.

Steve sighed. "I just told him to stop pulling all-nighters in the lab. He's going to get sick again and then he's going to be of no use to anybody."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "So," she said, "Tony needs to keep healthy for the good of the team."

Steve frowned at her. "Isn't that what I said?"

She shook her head. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"Never mind. I'm not wasting my breath. See you at dinner, Steve." And Natasha stalked off towards the gym.

Steve blinked, staring after her. "What was that all about?"

"It probably wasn't a good idea to ban Tony from the lab."

"Oh, so you're on his side, too?"

"We're a team, so we should all be on the same side, right?"

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because now Steve was looking at him like he suggested committing treason.

Bruce cleared his throat. "I don't want to get into this with you, Steve. Confrontation is bad for my blood pressure." He patted Steve's shoulder as he passed by. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

He found Tony sitting in the den, absently flipping through the channels on the flat-screen TV.

"Hey," Bruce said. "I was looking for you down in the lab."

"I'm not supposed to hide away down in the lab anymore," Tony muttered, sinking down further into the couch. "Captain's orders."

"What if I had a project I needed your help with?"

Tony finally tore his glance away from the TV and leveled Bruce with a weary look. "I'm sure good old Cap would be much better with the heavy lifting."

"No, Tony. I don't need manual labor. I need a research assistant. And you're the only one qualified for the job."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Keep talking."

"Remember when we fought Mystery Man last week?"

"The fungus guy, right?"

"Right. I've been trying to isolate the particular strain of fungus he used to paralyze-"

Tony sat up a little straighter. "I could make arrows for Clint out of that stuff."

"Sure," Bruce agreed. "Clint could probably use-"

Tony jumped up from the couch. "No time to waste, Bruce. To the lab!"

Bruce smiled as Tony took his hand and half-dragged him to the elevator.

It was easier working with Tony than Bruce had thought. He had seen Tony in some of his inventing moods, running around the workshop in a flurry of motion and loud rock music. But Tony was remarkably calm, humming to himself as he worked through a catalogue of known fungus strains with Jarvis' help. Bruce peered down through a microscope, analyzing a slide of fungus spores.

He felt a surge of pride when Tony pushed his chair back from the desk and announced, "We're probably going to be at this for awhile. Let me go grab us some dinner and then we can get right back to it."

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.


End file.
